


Away From Me

by xancrish



Series: Anything To Keep You Safe [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cannibalism, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek is Hiding Something, F/M, Forbidden, Gen, Horror, Long Shot, M/M, Murder Mystery, Mythology - Freeform, No Update Till November '14, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining Scott, Plot, Post-Episode AU: S04E05, Slow Build, Suspense, Wendigo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2091123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xancrish/pseuds/xancrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott throws caution to the wind, and makes his move. He had waited long, and had taken enough risks. It was time to come clean and let Derek know how he felt about him. </p><p>Only, things don't progess the way he had hoped it would. </p><p>Then there are the usual dead bodies, animal attacks and cannibals. All pointing in one direction. </p><p>What's a teenager to do?</p><p>[Ignores the Benefactor Arc. The next update will be after November '14. Sorry for the inconvenience caused. </p><p>This story has a plot. One that  revolves around dead bodies, a lot of unsolved mystery and mythological creatures. People who are here solely for Scerek feels, will need some patience. Don't like, don't read.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Smell of Rejection

“Scott! Hey! Scott, what are you _doing_?”

Scott felt like he had been electrocuted. His wolf-side took over and he sprung back, landing five feet away.

Derek looked absolutely shocked. His hands were still in front of him from having pushed away Scott. Then his eyebrows bunched together in a severe frown, and his jaws hardened.

They were in Derek’s loft, early morning light only just permeating through the dusty window. Scott had been checking on him, as had been his routine of late. The beta had taken a long time to recover, his human body rejecting the bite for as long as it could, before giving into the wolf powers. Deaton had feared that Derek might have become immune to the bite, and that there was no saving the man.

But all those worries were in the past. Now, it was a different kind of ‘losing’ that Scott was forced to face.

“Oh my god!” said Scott,  trying best to hide his rising panic. He felt like someone was gutting him with a knife. His heart beat was loud. He couldn’t have hidden his intentions, nor the ferocity of his feelings, even if he wanted to. Derek’s heart was racing, too, but clearly, not for the same reason.

“Scott,” said Derek, His mouth was a  thin line of disapproval. 

“I read it all wrong, didn't I? I totally led myself to believe something, that was not there!” said Scott, speaking more to himself than to the other wolf. Without realizing he worked himself up into a full blown tirade. “I mean, the first guy I have feelings for, how could I possibly assume that he would like me back! Oh my god! I just told you I like you, like _right_   _after_ you rejected me. And I’m still talking about it. Okay. I’m gonna stop. Now. And, I’m gonna leave, now. This never happened, okay? Forget that this ever happened.”

Scott was already moving backward, putting as much distance between him and the older man.

“It’s okay,” said Derek, but his face told Scott how much it was not. He could smell Derek’s irritation and discomfort. There was nothing there that indicated, he would encourage Scott’s advances. Ever. “I’m sorry if I misled -”

“No, no, its on me. I’m the one who....I...I’m sorry!”

They didn't speak for a whole minute. Neither of them moved. Derek was glaring less now, but his face was still decidedly neutral.

“It’s no big deal,” said Derek. “Just don’t -

“Yeah,” said Scott, cutting of the beta, “Don’t try something like that again and make it awkward for us and the pack in general. Got it.. I’m gonna go now before I die from shame.”

Scott turned swiftly and left the loft in a hurry.

If Derek smelt Scott’s pain, he made no show of it.

****

“You did WHAT?” said Stiles, exclaiming. All the freshmen in the school corridor turned back to look at them curiously.

Scott had known this was exactly how Stiles would react.

“I tried to kiss him,” said Scott, sighing, and looking at the floor. “He shoved me off.”

“Yeah, I _heard_ you. What I meant was, what the hell were you thinking, Scott? I mean, this is Derek we are talking about! Mr. Sourface? He bares teeth at the tiniest human emotion aimed at him. You can’t just go waltzing into his den, sweep him off his feet and K-I-S-S him! That’s an insane move right there!”

“Stiles!” said Scott, hissing. “Keep your voice down.”

“But, what were you thinking!” said Stiles, huffing.

They made their way to the lockers. There was at least five more minutes till they had to go for their Math class. The substitute teacher’s mysterious death had been a topic of gossip for while. Math class was still a little unsettling for the students. Including those who knew what actually happened to him.

“I know,” said Scott, sighing yet again. He picked up his books from his locker and banged it shut with more force than necessary. “I just thought -”

“You should be honest and come outright about your feelings for him,” said Stiles, finishing the other boy’s thoughts. Stiles watched as his best friend grew sad. He didn’t have to be a werewolf to taste the sunken feeling in the air. He had seen with his eyes how affected Scott became when the forever brooding wolf had almost died.

“Yeah,” said Scott, turning his back on his closed locker and banging his head against it. Hard.

“What happened, then?”

“He isn’t interested in me as anything but as his alpha. He told me not to ever bring it up again.”

“He said that?”

“Not in so many words.”

Stiles understood. Werewolves had various levels of communications, after all. Smelling, howling, stances.

Stiles realized that this wasn't going to be like those times with Allison. Nor like the short time Scott had been with Kira. Derek was different. Allison had been a teenager’s first love, and Kira, an admirer of his boyishness and alpha strength, someone Scott liked to flaunt to.  Derek? Derek was....well, Stiles knew that Scott cared enough for Derek to not take this rejection, lightly. In fact, Stiles had a sinking feeling that Scott might not get over him, for a long time.

Even after Derek had clearly shown he was not interested.

And, of course, on top of everything, Derek was now pack.

It was going to be hard.

Scott didn't have anything else to say. Neither did Stiles. He wouldn’t console friend, nor tell him that things were fine, because the alpha would know a lie when he heard one.  

“I don’t know what to say,” said Stiles, instead. He leaned back on the adjacent locker and bumped shoulder with the sulking boy.

****

Scott and Liam were fighting a pack of wendigo that had broken into their school.

Lydia had tipped Stiles over phone, who along with Malia had rushed to inform Scott. Liam had turned up after Scott called for him.

For some reason, Scott chose not to call Kira. Malia had hung back with Lydia, at Stiles’ request. ‘What if she screams?’ was all the explanation he gave, when Malia pointedly glared at him.

The rest of them had headed to the school, immediately.

It was mid-night and so, no casualties other than the supernaturals were expected. The two werewolves and the human with a baseball bat could have handled it on their own. Liam had become better at controlling his attacks, too, landing them where necessary, and holding back when he need to duck and defend. They didn’t need help.

Suddenly, there was a sudden movement behind them, and Stiles yelped. Scott and Liam froze.

Derek had just appeared, jumping in from one of the windows. Stiles made a face, and flipped off the older man behind his back.

After that, the fight only lasted for thirty more seconds. Derek, although a beta, lacked nothing in the skill department and was far greater in his experience. The wendigo pack, all six of them, were extremely wounded.

When they retreated, Scott didn’t run after them. Neither did the other two werewolves.

“So what do we do now?” said Stiles, panting with all the swinging he had done. They still hadn’t figured out what the creatures were doing here, in the first place. Now they were gone, and the pack didn’t even know what they looked like in their human form.  “Should we -?”

Stiles was cut off by a deadly growl that rang through the corridor. Jerking in fright, Stiles looked at the fallen family. His worried body became tense with the anticipation of another attack.

But, there was no movement in the shadows.

Stiles couldn’t look at Scott, because the alpha had his back to him. He looked at Liam, instead, questioningly. But the younger boy had his eyes on his alpha, looking weary. Almost like he was afraid. Even as Stiles watched, the kid then gave Derek a furtive glance, but swiftly shifted back to his alpha, as if the little glance had somehow physically stung him.

Derek too had his back to Stiles, but the older man stood still, hands to his side. It didn’t look like he was in the slightest troubled about anything. From the angle of his head, Stiles could tell, he was looking far from where the other two werewolves were standing.

Then, Scott started trembling.

It was not in agony.

Stiles could hear the heaving, uncontrolled breath coming, swifter and swifter, and he grew more confused by it. Stiles thought, that if this was Scott’s reaction to Derek’s presence, it was a little extreme. Yes, even despite the rejection. Especially, since he _knew_ that Scott blamed the entire fiasco on himself.

Stiles reached forward and placed a hand on Scott’s shoulder.

As if shocked by the contact, Scott lunged away from him. The wolf-boy turned to look at him, crouching low. Stiles felt a shiver go down his spine, when he noticed the red eyes and bared teeth aimed at him. The animal’s growl did nothing to placate him. Chills rose, and Stiles was reminded of the first time this had happened, back in the locker room, two years ago. One could never get used to the horror of having a predator, aiming his anger at you 

Stiles was starting to get worried for his organs, if not for his life. He would have still mouthed off something. Only, before he could utter a word, Scott jumped through the window that was there on the end of the long hallway, and disappeared.

A few seconds later, Derek left, too.

Liam still stood right where he had been standing all along. One glance at his sheepish face, and Stiles immediately understood that whatever had happened seconds before, the younger wolf was in on it.

“You tell me right this instant what the bejesus happened or I’m gonna skin your -”

“You can’t skin my anything,” said Liam, jutting his jaw forward. “But I’ll tell you.”

Liam hesitated for a few seconds, growing even more embarrassed by the second.

“Oh my god! Tell me already, you little runt!”

“Derek smell like sex,” said Liam, blushing a shade of red that looked dangerous to his skin. “A very male one.”

“So? He jacked off. God, Liam, TMI! Every heard of personal space? You can’t go smelling people -”

Liam growled, and his eyes turned gold.

“He smells like some other man’s semen!” said Liam, his voice loud with the anger that was quickly overtaking him, “Ugh! I can’t believe you made me say that! Stiles, you dimwit. I heard you guys talking in the morning. Can’t you put two and two together? He fucked some random dude, right after he rejected Scott!”

Liam stomped off, disappearing around the corner, human style.

Stiles was going to chide the beta for swearing, but those words died in his tongue when he realized what was actually said.

***

Stiles reached Lydia’s, five minutes later. He had to pick up Malia. But as he reached Lydia’s door, he noticed that there was no light coming from Lydia’s room. He sneaked inside, his sneakers trodding on the well maintained lawn, and checked the garage. Lydia’s car was safe and intact.

Smiling a little ruefully, Stiles trekked back to his jeep, headed back home.

He was going to have to sleep alone that night. He hadn’t done that in a while.

He sighed as he put his key on the door’s lock, trying not to make any loud noise. He would rather not have his father waking up, when he really didn’t need to.

The door unlocked with a rustic click.

Then, a familiar howl filled the silent night.

Stiles stood still, feeling more disheartened. He didn’t want to go inside, just yet. He traced the phone in his hand, hesitating. He wanted to talk to Scott.

If not Scott, at least Malia, or Lydia. Or heck, he would talk to even Scott’s Mom, if that would help. He wanted to know what he could do, how he could get Scott to -

His thoughts were cut off, when not two, but three more howls joined in on the first powerful one, mounting into a chilling lament that was loud and clear even to his human ears.

And, Stiles knew right then, that something was very wrong.

 


	2. The Sound of Dread

Malia woke up with a start.

Something was wrong.

Her eyes burned a fiery blue, as she rose from the couch where she had been resting. She realized she could only hear two heartbeats in the house. She rushed upstairs in the dark, not bothering about the noise she was making.

Lydia’s room was unlocked. The only window in the room was open.

The bed was unmade, the pillows were on the floor. The bed cover was missing. And so was the strawberry blonde.

A cold breeze found its way into the room, rustling the pages of an open book, that lay in the nightstand. Nothing else moved. There was gleam to the side, and Malia found Lydia’s phone.

Like in a trance, Malia moved forward. The nearer she got to the open window the more nervous she became.

There, surely enough, the missing bedcover twisted into a thick rope, was hanging slack.

Malia rushed to Lydia’s drawer and lifted one of her scarfs from it. As she drew a deep breath, her eyes shone a bright blue. Her fangs clenched in an angry snarl, and spittle flew from her mouth as she shook her head in fury.

She jumped off the window, and ran into the night.

****

Scott fell on his knee and bent before the headstone.

He was still seeing red. His head rang with the sound of his own agitated heartbeat. He could still smell that...that _foul_ -

He let out a wail.

“Why Allison?” said Scott, his head resting against the headstone. He hugged it like he would have his friend, had she been here. The stone was slippery under his hairy palm, and felt terribly cold and solid. He didn’t care. “Why does he have to be a jerk?”

No answer came.

The graveyard was as silent as the dead that lay there.

“I mean, he told me, he didn’t want me. I got that. I’d be okay with that after a while. I mean, I can love, and be okay with that. I’m not that selfish. I don’t - I don’t need reciprocation.”

Tears formed in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He wouldn’t let himself lament in self-pity. He would not.

Scott stood up. He picked up a small stone and flung it hard across the dark yard. Resorting to anger was easy.

“But he didn’t have to go and nail it in like that, did he?,” said Scott, his voice loud and indignant. “He’s not just rejecting me, Allison. He’s pushing me away! It’s like he’s trying very hard to make me hate him. Why would he do that? What would he gain from making me hate him? I’m his alpha! At least, that has to mean something!”

The wind picked up and Scott scrunched his face. He was slowing losing the foul smell he had found on Derek.

“I wanted to rip his throat out.”

Scott breathed in the fresh smell of the night. Finally, his muscles started relaxing, claws retracted, and his vision was turning to normal.

“I know what you would say. That I shouldn’t bother. That Derek’s just being Derek,” said Scott, sighed. He glanced down at his sleeping friend, his first love. “Right, Allison?”

Allison, of course, gave no reply.

His human eyes could no longer see as clearly. He was still adjusting to the darkness. He could only vaguely make out the headstone, now.

He looked away, forlornly. Thoughts were gone from his mind. Nothingness filled him. He just existed. He was part of the darkness, and he found some reprieve in it.. Everything was still. No sound, no movement.

The breeze was still there though.

 _Fresh_ , though Scott, _fresh soil_.

Scott was jolted out of his reverie. He was afraid to look down. He could make out the shapes in the dark now. But his eyes betrayed him, and there - he could see it. Something wrong with the ground he was standing on.

Darker than the area surrounding it, and bulged in the stomach.

The grave was freshly filled.

A high pitched howl filled the night. The alpha’s call was heard throughout the county.

***

Stiles and Mr. Stilinski made it to the graveyard fifteen minutes later. Derek and Liam were already, there.

“Who in the god’s name is _this_?” said the Sheriff, exclaiming. He was looking at the newest addition to the wolfpack. He then turned to his son, angry. “Stiles, what are you doing involving twelve-year olds! How much more irresponsible can you get- !”

“Sheriff Stilinski,” said Derek, curtly, “Now, might not be a good time.”

Stiles pointed his baseball bat at the werewolf.

“ _You_ ,” he said, “You better shut up right this instant, or I’m gonna puncture holes into you. You got that? Very painful hole.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at the futile threat.

“Stiles!” came Scott’s voice from further away. “Stiles!”

Stiles had assumed the worst. At least, now he knew, Scott was safe. And talking.

“I’m coming buddy!” Stiles stopped glaring daggers at the unmoved wolf, and jogged towards the sound. The Sheriff took his torch out and shone it on the path ahead, and followed close behind his son.

Stiles found Scott, kneeling on the ground, covered in soil and mud, and next to him lay a gaping hole, where Allison’s final resting would have been.

He didn’t dare to take a step further. Any relief he might have felt, fled him.

The Sheriff shone the torch into the pit, and the color drained from his face.

“I don’t understand” he said, conforming Stiles fears. “The body is gone.”

Nobody said anything. Scott didn’t say anything. Derek and Liam settled to watching their alpha, and the Sheriff took out his radio to call Deputy Parish.

Stiles looked at Scott, and he couldn’t help but be a little happy that his friend hadn’t wolfed out.

He glanced at Derek, trying not to frown as he did. Derek’s eyes were still on the alpha, but he must have felt Stiles’ glare, because he looked up and gave him a sneer. But even as he continued glaring, Stiles realized, whatever the man’s problem was, loyalty to Scott wasn’t one. Derek was the first one to answer his call. That had to count for something.

That was when Stiles remembered, that they were short of one coyote.

He had heard the howl. There was no mistaking the distinct, off-beat wail, that only belonged to Malia. But she wasn’t here.

Pulling out his phone, he pressed speed-dial.

There was no answer.

He called Lydia.

No answer again.

“Scott,” said Stiles, fear becoming solid in his throat, “I can’t reach her. I mean, Malia. Lydia, too. I think something’s wrong. I -”

Scott helped a hand and stood abruptly. The three werewolves were suddenly looking in the same direction. Ears twitching and catching a noise, that human ears couldn’t hear.

“Stiles,” said the Sheriff, who had finished speaking to his Deputy. He cast a wary look around the wolves. All of them breathing hard, their eyes glowing.. All them looking as if they were readying themselves to dive head-on into a fight. “What’s going on?”

No sooner had he uttered the words, the trio jumped high, and ran into darkness.

“I think they hear Lydia,” said Siles, “I think she’s screaming.”

****

Kira knew something was wrong even before she heard the alpha’s call.

She had been up all night doing her homework. At eleven, she had texted Lydia about a Chemistry question. Lydia had texted back the answer, instead of explaining her what the problem was about.

She had texted again, chiding her friend for not letting her try the question on her own. No reply came. She had resorted to calling after three texts. No reply, again.

She had no reason to suspect that anything was amiss. Only, she had tried Stiles, Malia and of course, Scott. None of them replied.

She knew she wouldn’t find anyone of them, if she went to their home.

So she cursed her friends for keeping her out of loop and continued doing her  homework. It was an hour past midnight when she was ready to call it a day.

But that was when she heard the call.

Kira was quick to change, and grab her sword. She wasn’t sure if her mother had been alerted, or if only the pack could hear the alpha. She didn’t want to take chances, and to be grounded at home when her friends needed her.

She sneaked downstairs as quietly as possible, treading light and trying not to ram herself into a furniture in the dark. It wasn’t an easy job.

When she was out, two minutes later, she let out a sigh of relief.

Then kicked the ground in frustration.

Unlike her fellow packmates, she neither had supernatural speed, nor a car. She would have to hike, the human way.

‘ _So much for being a badass kitsune_ ’, she thought, feeling depressed, ‘ _No wonder they won't call me out for their nightly fun_.’

It was ten minutes later she heard Lydia’s shriek.

She would have felt a little more comfortable, had it not come from the very house she was currently passing. As it happened, she turned abruptly in the direction of the scream, felt the beginnings of panic, as she made out Lydia’s form on the first storey window.

It was a random house, in a random neighborhood. Nobody they knew lived there.  

Kira knew only too well what that meant.

And, she didn’t want to go into the house.

Not alone.

****

Lydia felt her eyes becoming heavy with each word she read. Stifling a yawn, she put the book aside. She twisted and turned to get herself into a comfortable position, and  closed her eyes.

Soon, she was asleep.

When she came to, she was standing in a living room. It was not the Martin’s living room. There was a staircase that ran up, and she was facing in its direction.

She knew what this was about. She had done it a hundred times before. Still, the fear that felt like needles tracing a path through her veins, was something she would never get used to. Her eyes were dry. She couldn't blink. Neither could she utter a word.

She silently climbed the stairs, turning and walked into a small corridor.

There it was. The door. Open.

She walked in, and her knees gave away. She fell on the floor, streaks of blood flying and settling all over her.  

On the floor was a woman. In her mid-thirties. Beautiful.

Her midsection was open. Torn open with something that was definitely inhuman.

And everything inside her, was missing.  

Pulling her head back and clamping her eyes shut, Lydia screamed.


	3. The Light of Reason

“Scott! Scott, wait up!”

Scott stopped walking. He was tired, actually. He didn’t mind slowing down.

The corridors were busy with students hurrying to class. Not for the first time that day, he wished he could skip school.

Stiles flung a hand on his shoulder and pulled him towards their first class.

“My dad talked to Allison’s dad,” said Stiles, matter of factly.

“And?” said Scott, looking sideways at his friend.

“Well, he was shocked, of course,” said Stiles, “And hurt. And angry. And confused, and all those things a dad would feel if he finds out that his dead girl’s body has been stolen from her grave. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sets up a head-hunt for anyone who carries a spade.”

Scott sighed.

“Wait," Stiles continued, "Doesn’t grave-robbing mean robbing things that belong to the dead? And not the dead itself? This doesn’t make any sense, man.”

Scott shrugged and Stiles took his arm off to face his friend.

“I don’t understand, either,” said Scott, “I mean, I can’t find her smell. Not even a little of it. If I could, I would have found out where she was dragged to by now. ”

Neither of them wanted to even think about the horrors Allison’s body was possibly being subjected to. Or what heinous crimes it was being used to commit. Grave-robbing wasn't exactly a party planner's agenda. Scott almost wished he hadn’t found the empty coffin, last night.

“It must be because she’s dead,” said Stiles, “I mean, she or it, probably smells nothing like Allison. She’s not Allison, you know. Not anymore.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Scott, eyes glowing red, “I just want to find the person who did this, and punch the life out of him.”

They didn’t say anything for a while. They had reached their class, and stood outside, hesitating to go in. History class and good grades were the last thing on their mind.

“I have asked Derek to snoop around town,” said Scott. “May be, the two incidents were related.”

“And, the wendigos?” said Stiles, stifling his ire at the mention of the other wolf.

“He is going to deal with that, too.”

A pause.

“So you actually talked to him?”

“Yup.”

“Not just howling and glaring, but an actual conversation?” said Stiles, his brows high.

“Yeah.”

“And he was okay with taking orders from you?”

“It wasn’t exactly an order,” said Scott, defending himself, “But, yeah, he seemed okay with the idea.”

“And, he didn’t bite your head off?”

Scott didn’t reply to that. Instead, he glowered.

“Okay, okay!” said Stiles, raising his hands in defense, and flailing. “He’s being a good errand boy. Fine! But, you should still consider throwing him out of the pack. I’m just saying, buddy!”

Scott was looking like he was going to murder his friend. Just then, Mr. Yukimura came to Stiles' rescue, by poking his head out of the classroom and giving them both a plastic smile.

“You boys joining us anytime soon?”

***

The school day passed without any incident. Stiles had been checking his phone now and then for any news from Lydia. The blonde girl had ditched school that day, claiming she was too tired to make it. But she had volunteered to go and meet up with Deputy Parish. Try and see if she could get him to reveal something about her victim. Stiles had to remind her, it wasn't her victim, it was _a_ victim.

There had been no news, though, and Stiles found himself oddly thankful for it. The murders and saving the town could wait for a bit. He needed to breathe, dammit.  

After class, he found Malia leaning against his locker. He smiled at her. It was his first genuine smile that day.

Malia smirked, and stole a quick kiss from him as soon as he was near her.

“Did you get any sleep at all last night?” asked Stiles, pulling out his books and stuffing them back into the locker.

“Wait,” said Malia, raised a finger and shook her head. “Befoer I forget, I need to ask you something.”

Stiles stopped what he was doing, and looked at her.

“What is it?” said Stiles, “Did something happen?”

“Is my cousin gay?”

Stiles gave a jerk of surprise, and deadpanned.

“Who told you that?” he said, closing his locker. He was trying his best to hide his smile.

“What do you mean ‘told’? said Malia. She folded her arms and huffed “So he really _is_ gay?”

“I’m guessing it was the little runt. He doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. Yap, yap, all the time,” said Stiles. They started moving towards the exit. “It was Liam, wasn’t it?”

“ _Stiles_ ,” said Malia, growling.

“Why do you wanna know?” said Stiles, genuinely curious.

“Does he have sex with other guys?” asked Malia, ignoring him. Her voice was very much raised, but she didn’t seem in the least troubled about discussing it in the corridor.

“Yeah, probably,” said Stiles, confused and a little offended. He stopped walking, and glanced at his girlfriend, and was surprised to find her face contorted in apparent disgust.

“That’s gross!” she said.

“You have a problem with it?” asked Stiles, titling his head and frowning.

Malia didn’t answer for a while, seeming to be lost in her own thoughts. Her face was white as a sheet.

“Malia?”

“What?” she said, looking at Stiles.

Stiles raised his brows, questioningly. “You have a problem with him being gay?”

“I have a problem with him being anything other than an asexual tree,” she replied, hotly. “I mean, its Derek! Can you imagine him having sex? That’s just so... _eww_. Holy shit, I did not just imagine that. Oh, god, slap me, Stiles. I need to forget this image in my head. Stiles, now!”

Stiles giggled like a girl. Malia glared at him as if it was all his fault.

They headed towards the grounds for practice.

“Actually, I don’t think he’s gay,” said Stiles, a few seconds later, after he had gotten his laughter under control. “Could be bi, but I’m not sure. Do you wanna ask him?”

“No, thank you!” said Malia, giving him an indignant look.

Stiles watched as she stomped past him, and went to the bleachers. He shook his head fondly, and smiled.  

***

Scott was already dressed when Stiles found him in the changing room. Liam was there, too, but he was busy hanging out with Mason. He did glance up and give Stiles a customary scowl when he passed by, though.

“Dude,” said Scott, “What took you so long?”

“Just, you know,” said Stiles. His cheeks were still red from the laughing. “Malia.”

“Oh,” said the other boy, breaking into a small smile of his own. Then as if he shook himself out of it, the smile was gone. “Any news?”

“Nope,” said Stiles, heading for his clothes and stick. He had to get changed.

“I don’t like not knowing what to do,” said Scott, trailing behind him.

Liam looked up from his corner, and gave his alpha a curious look. Stiles gave him a look and mouthed, ‘privacy?’ Looking sheepish, the beta turned his head back to his friend Mason. Stiles was sure as hell, he was still eavesdropping.

“Neither do I, buddy,” said Stiles, as he put on his practice shirt. “I’m waiting for word from Lydia. But of course, that little vixen is taking her sweet time.”

As if on cue, somebody’s phone went off.

It wasn’t Stiles.

Scott rummaged through his bag.

“Yeah, Lydia?” said Scott, phone to his ear, and a meaningful glance at Stiles.

Then, Scott froze. Stiles watched as his friend’s face became shocked, then indignant, and slowly the color drained off his face.

“Okay,” he said, in a subdued voice, “Thanks, Lydia. I’ll call back if something comes up.”

“What is it?” said Stiles, without missing a beat. From the hot breath in his ear, Stiles knew that Liam was looming next to him, already.

“The body of the woman,” said Scott, his face flinching in disgust, “The only thing that was missing was her unborn child.”

Liam held him upright when Stiles lost his footing. He wanted to throw up.

***

Kira joined them on the ground, and Malia waved at them from the benches. The coach pulled out his whistle and ordered them to start running.

The practice game started half an hour later. Sweat and grime was thick in the air. Dusk was falling.

Not surprisingly, Scott and Liam were made to face-off each other. They stood with their sticks digging into the earth, poised to steal the ball from underneath their opponent's nose. Right then, they were't thinking about anything outside the field. It was just them, two high school boys, playing Lacrosse and having fun. 

They made eye contact, and Scott smiled.

They both heard the whistle vibrate, even before it was actually blown. They reared to attack each other. Neither would back out of a competition, even if it was only a game.

But at that very second, a loud screech filled the air. It wasn't the whistle. 

“What the -” said Coach Finstock, the whistle dropping from his mouth. 

Scott and Liam jumped away from each other, when a black figure fell from the skies.

It was not yet so dark that someone could have missed something so odd, happening in the middle of the field. After all, Coach had been standing right there, next to the boys, watching them close. Besides, the flood lights were already on. Yet, nobody could guess where the bird came from.

It was a huge raven. The size of a dog and eyes, eerily white.

It tilted its head, and looked at Scott.

“Shhhh,” said the Coach, waving his hand, frantically, “Go away, you, you _bird_! This is no place for you to play.”

The raven looked at him, then. The man stood paralyzed. He didn’t speak a word after that.

Liam waved his stick at the offensive bird.

It had no effect on the raven. Instead, it hopped on its thin legs, and turned to face the younger werewolf. It's white eyes glowed, intelligently. 

Without any warning, it launched itself on Liam. 

Scott yelled at his beta to stop moving. He stepped towards his beta, but the raven bet its wing even more furiously. It looked like it was trying to peck his eyes out.

A crowd was gathering around them already. The game was abandoned. People from the stands were heading towards the field. 

Liam could not transform. Not in the front of his entire team, not in front of his classmates. But logic wasn’t his strength when he got angry.

Scott was in no better state. To save his beta, he had to do something, and he was about to do something _very_ rash. He already had his claws out.

Out of no where, loud barks filled the air. Nobody noticed it at first. The sound was coming from far of, and it was such a normal sound that nobody would have bothered noticing it.

But then, the raven stopped its attack. 

It flew away from Liam and settled itself on the ground. Hopping on its legs, like a dance, it forgot Liam and turned to face in the direction of their school.

Liam looked dumbfounded. The yellow of his eyes were that apparent. He and Scott exchanged looks, and Liam nodded to his alpha. He was unharmed.

The bird was still there. Looking and waiting. It wasn't looking in the right direction, thought Scott. He would know, of course. He had his hightened sense of hearing. He was sure the barking noise had come from the other side, towards the open ground. May be, the bird was partially deaf. May be, it was just lost and frightened. 

He believe that, but he reasoned to hismelf that it could be. 

The bird took off with a final screech and disappeared into the darkening sky.

Scott glanced at where the raven had actually been looking at, and his heart beat sped up.

It was Derek.

He looked angry.

Scott had called him right after Lydia had informed him about the dead woman. Derek had said he would meet him person. Scott hadn't expected him to turn up at school. Not that it was very surprising.

Scott threw his stick to Stiles and ran to the man. Coach yelled after him, but Scott ignored him. He needed answers. 

As he approached his other beta, he found that the angry look was not there anymore. But neither was any other expression on his face. The older wolf looked a little tired.

Scott wished he could step a little more closer to him.

“Hi,” said Scott, keeping his voice casual. “Found anything?”

“Nothing on the woman,” said Derek, "or Allison."

Scott nodded, then sighed.

“No trace of the wendigo family. They must have already skipped town. I couldn't find their scent anywhere."

“So you think the wendigos killed the woman, ate her child and left in a hurry?”

“ _No_ ,” said Derek, like that was the stupidest thing Scott had ever suggested. “Wedigos are cannibals. They are not picky about which part of the human body they eat. If they eat a human, there's gonna be nothing left of it. And definitely not the heart and the brain.”

“So, what you mean is its kind of odd for a wendigo to go for just the foetus?”

“Exactly,” said Derek, “And if there were six wendigos at work, it would've be a lot more messier. The wendigo family didn't kill the woman.”

“Okay,” said Scott, nodding vigorously. He was disappointed, of course. This was no progress at all.

Derek must have smelt his feelings.

“We will figure it out,” he said. “Everybody is working on it. Chris, the Sheriff. May be, its not even a supernatural force at work.”

“Yeah.”

“Scott,” said Derek. 

Was it Scott's imagination, or Derek standing a little closer to him?

“Yeah?” said Scott, keeping his face neutral and only mildly curious.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you worried about me?”

“You are my alpha.”

“The alpha's fine.”

Derek left as abruptly as he had come.


	4. The Voice of Doubt

“What do you mean, there was a black bird on Liam’s face?”

Lydia gave Stiles’ turned back a dubious look. The said boy was working in a frenzy over his clue-board. He was overusing the red thread, circling and tightening them around his pins. Malia had settled herself comfortably on her boyfriend’s bed and was watching the pair with a bored look on her face.

Stiles answered without turning.

“Yes, there was a black bird. And, yes, it was attacking Liam’s hairy face. He was this close to wolfing out. I swear, if Scott weren't there, we would have had to thank the child-wolf for putting two dozen teenagers in the ICU by now.”

“Was it a bat?”

Stiles gave Lydia a confused look.

“Was what a bat?”

“The bird,” said Lydia, rolling her eyes.

“No,” said Stiles, “It was a raven. In fact, a very common raven.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows, and didn’t call out on Stiles’ detective skills, when he stuck a prominent red pin on a block printed ‘BIRD’ on his board. With that, Stiles gave his work one last admiring glance, and turned to his audience.

“So, so far, we have a year old body missing,” said Stiles, beginning to pace the length of his room, “a very ghastly looking murdered body of a woman and her unborn child, with the said child, also, missing, and a pack of wendigos, who turn up at school, fully turned, whose motive we know nothing of, except for the fact that they seemed to enjoy breaking, entering and vandalizing public property, and that they attacked us on sight and then when overpowered, high-tailed out of town, all of this happening in a window of one hour, close to mid-night.

“No that’s not right,” said Lydia, “The wendigos were there before you got there. And, I found the body about an hour later.”

“Yeah, about that,” said Stiles, “You never told us how you found out about the Wendigos.”

Without missing a beat, as if she had been expecting the question, Lydia answered.

“I’m a banshee,” she said, putting her chin up.

“Right,” said Stiles, his tone disbelieving, “Since when do you get clues on things that are still moving and breathing?”

Lydia was suddenly blinking too fast for some reason. Malia who had so far not shown any interest in the ongoings, perked up.

“She is hiding something,” said Malia, narrowing her eyes at the blonde.

It had only been yesterday, but with so many things happening so fast, it was with difficulty Stiles recollected what had started it all. Lydia had informed them over phone. He and Malia had been working at Math, when they had received the call from her. Being a school night he had naturally assumed she had been at home, too. And when she told him about the Wendigo, he hadn’t stopped to question her about it.

Stiles now looked at her, and it was all too apparent that she was hiding something.

“Look,” said Lydia, in a clearly exasperated tone, “there are such things as privacy. It has nothing to do with the case. I was at school to take care of something, and I found the Wendigos at the parking lot, by chance. That’s all there is to it.”

Stiles put a hand to his face, sighing.

“Lydia, whom were you with?”

Lydia gave Stiles a look that suggested she didn't believe she was made to answer that question. When Stiles continued to look on, expectantly, she replied in a miffed tone. 

“It's not important.”

“She is lying,” said Malia, promptly.

Lydia ignored the were-coyote and looked at Stiles, pleadingly. She clearly did not want to admit who it was she had been with.

“Oh my god,” said Stiles, his face blanching in horror, “it was Coach, wasn’t it? Are you having illegal sex with Coach?”

“What, no!”

“Was it Parish?”

“No!”

“Holycrap! The old janitor?”

“Stiles,” said Lydia, sounding utterly disgusted. “Shut up, or I’m going to rip your throat out.”

That was all the clue Stiles needed. He gave a start and put his finger to his ears.

“I wish you hadn’t said that thing you just said,” said Stiles, scowling “I really didn’t need to know you were with him. I’m gonna erase the last thirty seconds from my mind.”

“Peter?” said Malia, looking between the two of them.

“Derek,” said Stiles, after giving Lydia a stern gaze.

“Let’s get back to the board,” said Lydia, curtly, and flicked her locks behind her shoulder.

“Okay, let's do that,” said Stiles, turning to his board, determined to clear the air with a new subject, “The Wendigo incident happens first. What time did you find them?”

“I would say about eleven thirty?”

Stiles turned to give Lydia a scathing look. He had his hands on his hips.

“You can’t tell me, _you_ ,” he said in a no-nonsense tone, “and that moody emo-dude met up for a friendly chat at midnight and have me believe it. And I also don’t think your taste sucks so bad that you would see him otherwise than for platonic reasons. So, as much as I don’t want to know anything about that weirdo, it must have be something really important if you met up with him at that hour! I think Malia would agree with me on that, too.”

Lydia raised her brows, challengingly.

“I’m still calling my privacy card.”

Stiles let out a frustrated noise, and glared at the blonde.

“Was it about Scott?”

Lydia sighed, then.

“I can’t tell you,” she said, looking tired all of a sudden.

“It was about Scott,” said Stiles, looking grimly confident.

Despite his misgiving about Derek, Stiles was glad to find out that things weren’t all smooth sailing in the older wolf’s world. If it meant that Derek was bothered about Scott, enough to seek out Lydia, whatever his motives might have been, he was definitely not as unaffected as he was posing himself to be.

Stiles was now beyond curious about what Lydia knew. He already knew the ‘why’ part she wasn’t telling. It wasn’t in Scott’s nature to force someone against their will. If Derek didn’t want Scott’s attention all he had to do was say ‘no’. There simply was no reason for Derek to push away Scott. He didn’t hate Scott, either.  

No, thought Stiles, comprehension dawning on him, it was because Derek was afraid.

Afraid of what?

Before he could speak, though, Malia put a hand in the air and waved it frantically.

“What?” said Lydia, sounding relieved from the distraction.

“I have a question,” said Malia.

“Yes,” said Stiles, “I know putting a hand up usually means wanting to have a question answered. In a classroom, Malia. Otherwise, you just ask the damned question.”

“You said you met up with Derek before you called us, right?” said Malia, ignoring Stiles, and looking at Lydia.

“Yes.”

“What happened after that?”

“What do you mean?” said Lydia, her eyes narrowing.

“I mean,” said Malia, sitting up straight, “Why didn’t Derek just take care of the Wendigo’s all by himself? Why did he ask you to call us?”

Lydia froze like she had been shocked.

Stiles looked equally confused.

“He asked me to head back home,” said Lydia, slowly, “and I did. I left right after I called you. I assumed he called you guys for back up.”

“But he was _our_ backup,” said Stiles, looking between Lydia and Malia, like they knew any better than him.

“Where did he go?” said Malia.

“I don’t know,” said Lydia, her voice a dead whisper .

“I need talk to Scott,” said Stiles.

***

Melissa would have missed him if she hadn’t practically run in to him.

He stood by the entrance, when she was wheeling in a patient. He tagged along-side of her, without saying a word. It was only when she bumped into him and had to look up to apologize, she noticed him.

“Derek!” said Melissa, half in alarm and half in surprise.

The man looked tired.

“Melissa,” he said, “I need to talk to you.”

That didn’t sound good. None of the things the wolves had to say sounded any good.

She let go of the wheelchair when another nurse walked up to help the pregnant lady sitting in it.

She turned to give Derek her full attention, and that was when she noticed his eyes.

“Your eyes!” she said, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline. Her hand automatically went up to reach for Derek's face, from which the man shyed away.

He gave her a curious look.

“They are red!”

“What?” said Derek, frowning and then, panicking. He made as if to turn and flee the place,  when Melissa put a hand to his elbow.

“They are bloodshot!” yelled Melissa, feeling a little embarrassed right after. “Just bloodshot. But really red kind of blood shot, is what I meant.”

Derek looked like he was about to do something really unpleasant. Then, he sighed, his whole body slackening. He rubbed his eyes, and Melissa could sense that she had been right. He _was_ really tired. Tired for werewolf standards.

“Are you alright?” said Melissa, “Should I call Scott?”

Derek gave a small, almost imperceptible jerk at the mention of her son’s name. Melissa wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't been watching his expressions as keenly as she was.

“What?” he said, his reponse coming a little too slow, “No, I’m fine.  I’m not here for me. I wanted - I came to, I mean, the post mortem. The lady who was murdered. Has the report come in?”

Melissa stopped and smiled a little. She knew there was something going on between this man and her son. She also knew, Derek fought his best to hide it, and from what she heard behind closed doors, and snippets of pack conversations, that he was really good at it, too. She wished she could tell Derek that it was alright, that she wouldn’t mind Derek being the man in her son’s life, if that’s what he wanted. But it was all too apparent that something was stopping the older wolf. And, She knew it wasn’t her place to ask.

Derek wasn’t exactly meeting her eyes, now. May be, it was the eye comment. May be, it wasn't that. She couldn't be sure.

She answered him, her face becoming serious when she remembered the question. She recollected all too well the ravaged body that had been brought it the night before.

“The reports are through,” she said, her forhead creasing, “and like we feared, cause of death is animal attack.”

Derek’s jaw tightened and he curled his fist.

“I need to see the report,” he said. It wasn't exactly a request. Melissa hadn't expected one.

But before Melissa could answer, there was a shout from down the hall. It was coming from the maternity ward. Right where the pregnant woman in the chair had been taken in. A male nurse was calling out to Melissa for help.

“Derek, you gotta wait for bit, okay?” said Melissa, in a rush. Her attention was waning, “I will get you that report. Just get to the waiting area. Take a nap, meanwhile. Trust me, you look like you desperately need some sleep.”

Before Derek could protest, she was gone.

***

When Melissa returned, she didn’t find Derek in the waiting area. She gave up searching for him after a few minutes, figuring that something must have come up. She could only hope that more dead bodies didn't turn up.

She was making her way back to the Emergency Ward, when Derek came stumbling out of the men’s room, looking like he had just met with the Grim Reaper. His face was white as a sheet.

As soon as his eyes fell on Melissa, he strode towards her, a mad glint to his yellow eyes. He grasped her and bared his teeth as he spoke. 

“The women they brought in,” he said, “What happened to her?”

His voice came out in such a low rumble that Melissa felt her hair raising. Half an hour earlier the werewolf had look tired, now he looked like he belonged to Einchen House. Melissa didn't want to dwell on what it implied.

“Derek, I need you to move slowly, okay?” said Melissa, nodding and talking like she were addressing a child, “You don’t look too good. I’m gonna get you checked.”

“No! Tell me what happened to her!”

Melissa shook her head and stared at the man.

“Tell me!” said Derek, his voice turning into a growl.

“She had a miscarriage,” said Melissa, now a little confused. There was so much urgency in Derek's behavior, she couldn't help but wonder if she had missed something important.

“And the remains!”

“Waiting to be sent to the mortuary?”

“Where is it?”

“Why? What's wrong? Derek? Derek!”

Derek never answered. He rushed away from her, and Melissa struggled to keep up with him as he walked towards the operating room, finding his path with the sense of smell. There was nobody there when they reached it. The grieving family had been shifted to an appropriate room. The doctors were gone.

Derek stepped into the room. He picked up something from the floor, that Melissa couldn't immediately see. She asked him what it was. Derek didn’t answer.

When the werewolf turned to look at her, she found her answer.

It was a bloody, but clearly empty glass jar, with the caption 'PATH'* written on it.

“I need to talk to Scott,” said Derek, his face turning deadthly pale, "I know who killed the woman."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PATH* is short for Pathology Waste. The remains of unborn child has to be disposed off by incineration as per Calofornian law. [Source: leginfo dot ca dot gov]


	5. The Touch of Death

“Stiles, my phone cost me a ton load of money. Don’t make me put it through a wall.”

Scott was standing in the rear side of the animal clinical. He had been taking care of trash when his friend had called. His was now gripping his phone with more force than necessary.

“Scott, I’m serious,” came the voice of Stiles, sounding urgent and a bit on the high-side of panicky, “It’s Derek. The woman and her missing baby, Allison, Wendigos, its all Derek!”

“Stiles,” said Scott, his voice deceptively calm, “I am starting to feel a great desire to come over there, right this instant, and put my claws through your gut.” Scott kicked a can that was rolling empty on the darkened alley street. It echoed loudly when his foot connected to it, and went soaring in the air, falling twenty metres away. “But I’m gonna ignore that feeling and hang up now, because I have better things to do.”

“Scott! No! Listen!” said Stiles, his voice  “Don’t just dismiss it, just because you don’t like it! I have proof! Lydia is here. You can talk to her if you don’t believe me!”

Scott could feel the way it was pressed against it temple, too hard. He had to be double careful, not to break his phone now.

“Stiles, what are you saying?”

“Scotty,” said Stiles, sounding a little upset now, “I’m sorry but we just got a call from Parish. There’s been an incident again. In the hospital this time. The camera’s caught him clearly. Derek, I mean. In the same room. Nobody else was there but him.”

Scott started pacing up and down the alley. There was a ringing sound somewhere, that was making his head hurt. He could hear Stiles, though. As much as he didn’t want to.

“What room, Stiles?”

“There was a pregnant woman. She miscarried. The remains went missing from that room right after. And the camera shows Derek entering the room alone, at about the same time. But then something weird happens. He leaves and comes back again with your Mom. Then they both leave. But it’s kind of obvious now what is happening, Scott. As much as I feel like I’m going crazy saying this out loud. But its true, buddy. Derek’s collecting dead things. At least, that’s where everything is pointing to. I don’t know for what he’s doing _with_ it. We haven’t figured that out, yet. But there’s a pattern and its kind of hard to miss.”

“Mom was there?” said Scott, ignoring everything else that was said. He could hardly recognize his voice. He could hardly believe any of it was happening. It sounded like a joke was being played on him. It sounded like one of his nightmares.

“Mom is safe,” said Stiles, quickly reassuring. “I haven’t talked to her yet, Parish said she was okay. But, Derek -”

“Derek what?”

“He’s, well, missing.”

“You are making this up,” said Scott, “It doesn’t make any sense. Did you take Adderall, Stiles?”

“Scott!” said Stiles, his voice admonishing now.

Scott knew how easy it was to blame things on Derek. He had been one of those people, not so long ago. He hadn’t known Derek then, though.

Now it was different. Derek was pack. Derek was _his_ beta. Stiles knew that. Stiles knew that no matter how much Derek might not want to be with Scott, he would never do anything to betray their pack or what they stood for. Derek valued the pack too much for that. Scott knew, Derek valued _him_ too much for that.

To suspect Derek, was like suspecting Scott.  

Scott felt anger surge through him like electricity

“I’m gonna hang up, now, Stiles,” said Scott. He was only still speaking because this was Stiles. If it had been anyone else, he would have quit the conversation even before it had started. He pulled the phone away from his ear, and was about to disconnect the call, when he heard Stiles’ voice yelling through the other end. He cursed his heightened senses.  

“The smell!” came Stiles voice, his words rushing out in a fast tumble, “Remember the smell on him yesterday! Do you know why he smelled like somebody else’s  ‘business’, Scott? Because he’s being hiding his own scent under unwashed clothes of random dudes. He’s been borrowing them from Lydia. It was a jacket that belonged to one of Lydia’s stupid hanger-on, that made you go off the deep end! He borrowed it from her yesterday. He was there at school with her, when they spotted the Wendigos. But he was gone before we got there. He was gone! Why did he leave Scott? When he could have taken care of it as easily as he did later? That’s also when the murder happened Scott!  You see what I’m saying? These can’t be coincidences. He’s changed, Scott. He’s turned to something else. I’m not making this up, Scott, you need to listen to me! We need to find him, ASAP. Scott! Are you there? Scotty!”

Scott’s hand that was clutching his phone, hung loose on his side. He wasn’t about to answer. His mind raced. Stiles words made very less sense to him. He couldn’t see the pattern. He couldn’t call what story Stiles had cooked up as “evidence”. Everything Stiles said was circumstantial. Not solid evidence. Not proof. There was no way Scott was going to believe Derek had anything to do with the murder, or the missing remains his dead friend.

But Scott’s body was assaulting him with eight different emotions, and he wasn’t sure if he was comprehending what was happening, logically. All he could think of at the moment, was that Derek was hiding something.

Derek had been hiding something from him all along. He knew at least that to be true. He had been too distracted by his own emotions and misgivings, but now that he thought about it, he could see it as plain as a day. Derek had been withdrawing from him more than usual. Derek had gotten dismissive and angry every time Scott had gotten close to him, even if it was only as his alpha. Derek had been avoiding Scott as much as he could, even before the kiss.

Derek hadn’t been angry when Scott had kissed him, yesterday.

He had been _afraid_.

Derek couldn’t be causing trouble. Scott felt sure about this, too. No, he was _in_ trouble, and he was afraid he would somehow screw things up, and make a mess again. Shame Scott, again. Disappoint Scott, again. He must have run off to some isolated place so that he could drag no one into trouble with him. A ‘in danger Derek’, meant a lone-wolf Derek.That’s how Derek worked. That’s where Derek was at now. Somewhere alone. Somewhere nobody could reach him

Scott disconnected the call.

All he had to do now was find the real culprit, without wasting anymore time. Before Derek got himself even more deeper into his own imagined pit.

He turned to head back into the clinic. Deaton would be back shortly and would know better than the teens how to figure this mess out. He would be able to point out to Scott a constructive way to help Derek and stop the murders and put Allison’s body back to her rest.

But at that exact moment, he heard the tin can he had kicked earlier, crunch noisily. Someone had stepped on it.

Scott stopped, but didn’t turn back.

His hair stood on end. There was a strong stench of a man he didn’t recognize. And that told him, it was Derek.

Of all the emotions Scott had been feeling only a second before, anger was still the dominant one of them. He held on to it like an anchor, in the whirlwind of emotions that was surging through him.

 _What an irony,_ thought Scott.

Before he knew it, Scott fell on his hands and crouched, glowering at the man before him. He could see the tall figure, then. He could see his eyes. They were golden.

A low growl escaped Scott and within a fraction of a second, he had Derek up by the wall, breathing into his face. Breathing in a complete stranger’s scent.

“Sc-scott,” said Derek, his voice strangely uneven. “You know, then.”

A look of resignation was on his face. A look of defeat so complete, it made Scott feel like someone had just kicked him in his gut.

“What do I know, Derek?” said Scott, still not letting go of his hold on the man. In fact, he drew them both closer to each other. He wanted to know where that vile smell was coming from. He wanted it away from Derek. He wanted Derek to smell nothing like it.

When he nosed up the man’s jaw, connecting with his prickly stubble, Derek shuddered. Scott could hear his heart beat go off-kilter, slow now, then rapid again, slow again, then crazy fast. Derek caught hold of Scott's arm, and held it in a deadly grip.

Scott could smell Derek, now. It’s was overpowering whatever piece of cloth he was carrying, and the smell screamed of only one emotion.

Fear.

Very afraid, indeed, but he wasn’t averse to Scott’s nearness. Scott had no reason to stop and think what he was doing. He didn’t feel that there was a need. Derek wasn’t resisting. He looked resigned. Scott had caught him red-handed.

Scott sneered like a demon as he tore Derek’s back pocket with his claws. He didn’t even bother to look at what piece of disgusting garment he held, and threw it as far away as his abilities allowed him too.

“What do I know, Derek?” repeated Scott, spitting flying as he spoke, “If you mean I know you are hiding things, _crucial_ things from me, yes I know! If you mean I know you have been covering up your scent, under some random dude’s dirty laundry, I know that too! Do I know you don’t have an alibi for when the first murder happened and that you were there in the same damn room when the second incident happened? Yes I do! I also know on top of all that, you have an awesome track record for screwing up things that could have been solved in a very, very simple way, if only you had manned up for a second and told someone about it!”

Derek visibly swallowed. His eyes were wide, his heart beat was going crazy. Scott felt blood drip from his arm, where Derek was digging in his claws. Scott had never seen him look like this before. Not once, not even in the face of death. He looked absolutely terrified.

“Scott, I -”

“Who’s controlling you?” said Scott, seething. “Who got you into this mess! Tell me, Derek! What are you hiding from me? Who is it?”

Derek stumbled back, letting go of Scott.His brows bunched together in a frown. He looked at Scott, who was still heaving with every breath he took. He looked on for a second more, golden eyes searching ren one’s, frantically. Then his expression changed to that of wonderment. He looked at Scott, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing in front of him, like he couldn’t believe what Scott had just said.

“It was me, Scott,” said Derek, “I killed the woman.”

Scott snorted. He took a step back, and crossed his arms.

“You don’t believe me,” said Derek, cocking an eyebrow.

“And Allison's body? Stashed it in the back of your car?”

“Scott,” said Derek, jaws tightening and taking a step closer towards him. Scott had to admire him for that. Only a day before, Derek would have been willing to suffer extreme pain, if only he could avoid being close to Scott. “I’m being serious.”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” said Scott, leering at him.

“Scott cut it out!” Derek was getting frustrated. There was no smell of fear, now. It occurred to Scott, that Derek was very distractible. At least, as far as he was concerned.

Scott leaned close to Derek’s ear.

“Tell me more,” said Scott, goading the man, “Go on, tell me.”

Derek was getting angry, now. But what was more interesting to Scott’s nose was the spike of other pheromones in the air.

“You know,” said Scott, lips almost brushing against his captive’s neck, “when Nogitsune took hold of Stiles, he came straight to me.”

Derek was trembling. Anger and arousal was equally there, mixing and thrilling Scott’s senses. Being an alpha did have its perks, after all.

“I know he’s my best friend and all, and of course, he would count on me,” continued Scott, his voice purring dangerously, as he spoke, “but I was led to believe that an alpha and his beta shared a unique connection. You know, respect, trust and all that. Seems like we are exception to that rule, yeah, Derek?”

Scott had snaked his hand to Derek’s throat and was pressing him against the wall. He could feel his breathe and the trouble he was having with it too.

“Scott -” started Derek, but Scott cut him off.

“Or maybe, you don’t need an alpha anymore?”

When Derek froze in his arms, his breathe completely still, Scott knew he had hit below the belt.

He didn’t take it back, though.

“I would have come to you if I could,” said Derek, his voice a little over a mumble. There was no anger. Nothing except dejection.

Scott released him.

Derek shoulders slumped. He wouldn’t look at him.

“But the thing is Scott, you were the last person, _still_ are the last person I should be asking help from,” said Derek.

Scott felt his own anger loosen its hold on him.

“Are you saying that because of the way I behave towards you?” said Scott, looking away.

“Yes,” said Derek.

Scott pressed a hand to his face. He didn’t need to go through this a second time. It would be worse, this time, too. Derek was suggesting, Scott had become unreliable, even as an alpha, because of how much he was invested in Derek.

“So, it’s true,” said Scott, feeling a heavy weight settle in his stomach. He was still looking anywhere but at Derek. He didn't want to see the look of rejection on his face again. “You really couldn’t care less about me.”

Derek didn’t answer.

Scott looked up, he found Derek’s eyes tightly shut.  

“Derek?” said Scott, nearing him again.

Green eyes looked at him with so much pain, for a second Scott couldn’t understand what he saw. But his instincts urged him or, and his hands found Derek’s face.

“Derek,” said Scott again, wondering why Derek wasn’t flinching away from his touch.

“You have no idea, Scott,” said Derek, looking miserable and lost. “You have no idea how or _what_ I feel for you Scott.”

Scott let out a hollow laugh at that.

“Not for the lack of trying on my part,” said Scott. He traced his thumb against Derek’s cheek. Derek was still looking at him.

God, his eyes were beautiful.

It was a wonder to him, that Derek was letting him touch him, at all. May be, he would wake up from this magical trance soon, and push away Scott.

“It doesn’t matter, Scott,” said Derek, sadly.

“Does it really not matter?” asked Scott, leaning even closer, hovering over Derek. He could feel Derek’s warm breath now, hot against his cheek.

Scott’s intentions were clear this time. He wasn’t coming on to Derek out of no where. Derek was conscious of what was happening. His green eyes were wide open, and they were looking at Scott’s lips. They fluttered close when Scott titled his head and pressed a kiss to Derek’s jaw. Derek exhaled loud, his heart beat speeding up like he were running miles. Scott’s was in no better shape. He kissed him again, on his cheek, brushing against the sharp stubble, then he kissed the corner of his mouth.

Derek still didn't push him away.

Scott pulled back to look at him. His eyes were closed, eyebrows close-knit like he was in pain, and he was breathing through his mouth. Scott titled his head some more captured Derek’s lips, pressing urgently, like he were a thief who had only a second more before he would be seperated from his loot. His lips pleaded Derek’s lips to come to life. He bit his lower lip, pulling them and crushing them between his. It became a rude red under Scott’s ministrations.

Derek didn’t respond.

Feeling defeated, Scott was about to pull back, when suddenly, a hand came up to cup the back of his head, and forced him against Derek’s lips.

Then, they were kissing like they should have. Fierce and like in a battle, both of them not willing to let the other take control. When Derek deepened the kiss, his tongue lashing out against Scott's, sucking and snaking in and out, hungrily, Scott repayed in kind, equally fervent, moaning like he were a dying man. He gripped Derek’s neck and his claws scraped against the skin there, Derek let out a low growl and pressed up against him, which caused Scott's hardness to brush against Derek's and Scott's brain short-circuited. He bit his finger to stop himself from letting loose a howl into the night.

It struck him then. Somewhere in a corner of his brain, which was still functioning. .

Derek _wanted_ him.

With what felt like pure exhilaration that ran through his veins now, Scott pulled Derek away from the wall in a violent tug. The other man was not expecting this, and the next second had them both tumbling onto the dirty alley surface, with Scott on top of Derek, ripping his Henley off.

Scott bent down and kissed Derek,  again.

Then, a sharp sting rang through Scott’s ribs. He jerked and looked down between them, and Scott saw that Derek had a hand pressed up against him. He was pushing him away.

“What?” said Scott, his voice more of a bark than anything.

“Scott,” said Derek. He looked like he was struggling with himself. His eyes were yellow, golden flecks in them shining like neon, pupil fully blown with lust. He was panting like a dog. But the hand between them was determined. “Scott, I can’t - we can’t.”

“Derek” growled Scott, pushed the offending hand away. He bent to kiss Derek again, but the older man turned his face away. Scott ended up bumping his chin against Derek, and let out a painful yowl.

The pain was a distraction, and before Scott could do anything, Derek had him pushed away, was up and away from him. He stood five feet away, his Henley hanging around his hip in shreds. His eyes were still yellow. He was still breathing heavy.

“I was afraid something like this was going to happen,” said Derek, his voice wary.

Scott punched his fist on the pavement, in frustration and his hand went three inches into the concrete, sending up grey dust all around him.

“Can you for once, tell me, in clear terms whether or not you want me? And then tell me, what the fuck did we just do now if you really didn’t want me?”

Derek looked like he was being physically assaulted by the questions.

“I killed the pregnant woman,” said Derek, his voice hollow, “I stole the unborn children. And Allison’s body”

“Yeah, right,” said Scott, sarcasm dripping like acid from his mouth, “And then what? You ate them?”

Derek flinched, his eyes widening perceptibly. The fear was back again. A sharp tang, disturbing and sickly to Scott’s nose.

“Yes,” said Derek, his heart beat steady, and his voice deceptively devoid of any emotion, “That’s what I have been trying to tell you Scott. Nobody’s got my back. Nobody is controlling me. It’s me. I have changed.”

Scott laughed. Tears stung his eyes. Who could have blamed him? This was the craziest thing he had ever heard in all his time as a supernatural teenager. It was ridiculous just hearing it come out of Derek’s mouth.

“Derek,” said Scott, standing up and dusting himself off, “I’m sorry. But I really can’t humor you with your little imagination, anymore. If you don’t want anything to do with me, just say it and be done with it. I’m not that stupid, I can understand.. You can knock it off, now.”

It wasn’t Derek who replied.

The back door opened and Scott’s employer walked out. His carried with him long and thick, industrial looking chains. 

“I’m sorry Scott, but none of what he just said, had anything to do with his imagination,” said Deaton, his eyes trained on Derek with a steady, calculative look. “This man is not a werewolf, anymore.”

He raised the chains he was holding and clinked them noisily. It made a chill of horror rise up Scott's spine.

“And he needs our help.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it. Tell me what you think! :)


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